


First Days

by lentezon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alastair (Supernatural) Being an Asshole, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Bullying, Dean Winchester Has a Crush, Hogwarts Express, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Multi, Teenagers, Through the Years, mentions of minor character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 18:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16897809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lentezon/pseuds/lentezon
Summary: September 1st is always an exciting day for young witches and wizards, no matter how often they've done this before.





	First Days

**Author's Note:**

> I started playing an old Harry Potter PC game out of boredom one weekend, and suddenly there was this fic. I'm not sure how it happened, but I'm thinking I should pick up old games more often.
> 
> Additional warning: Alastair making Dean uncomfortable with physical contact (not explicit). It's in part 4 if you want to skip it.

 

**01\. First year.**

“This is so cool!” Sam says, looking around the platform with wide eyes. “I wanna go, too. Can I go with Dean, Dad?”

“I sure as hell hope not,” John Winchester mutters. He, too, is looking around the platform, but as excited as Dean’s little brother looks to be here, so angry does his father appear. He hasn’t stopped scowling since he shoved Dean’s luggage in the car.

In fact, Dean doesn’t think John has stopped being angry ever since the letter arrived on their doormat.

It _is_ all really impressive. Dean literally just ran through a wall, and now he’s on a platform that shouldn’t even exist, holding a small pouch of coins that don’t look like real money even by European standards, watching honest-to-god real-life owls flying around while people just casually chat with family members they’re saying goodbye to for a whole year.

He hates it.

“Sam. Hey.” Dean lets go of his little brother’s hand and kneels down in front of him instead. “In a few years, you’re gonna be allowed to come, too, and you’re gonna blow them all away with how smart you are and how amazing a wizard you’re going to be, yeah? And I promise I’ll come back every holiday and bring the best Christmas gifts you’ve ever seen.”

“And you’ll write, won’t you?” The kid looks a lot less excited all of a sudden, as if he’s only just remembered why they’re here in the first place.

“Every week,” Dean promises.

“No owls,” John says. “You can write the old-fashioned way. I don’t want to clean up bird crap all over the place.”

Somehow, Dean doubts the postman will be able to find a magical school, but he wisely keeps his mouth shut. He’ll send Sam owls whether their Dad likes it or not. It’s a school of magic, surely he’ll find a way to get it done without John knowing.

All too soon, the first whistle sounds, the first sign that Dean isn’t going to see his family for the next few months until Christmas. He’s still crouched in front of Sam, so he just grabs the kid into a tight hug. “If it gets tough, write me, okay?” he mutters, soft enough that John won’t be able to make out what he’s saying. “I hate leaving you alone.”

“I’ll be fine, Dean,” Sam says, even though he sounds a little nervous. The kid is only seven, for fuck’s sake, he shouldn’t have to be nervous about any of this. But John has been difficult ever since their mother died, which is pretty much Sam’s entire life, and it’s only gotten worse since Dean got his letter half a year ago.  


 

HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

    
    Dear Mr Winchester,
    We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
    Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
    Yours sincerely,
    Minerva McGonagall
    Deputy Headmistress

 

Dean thought it was a joke, at first, except he didn’t know anyone with a remotely similar sense of humour (or much of a sense of humour at all). Then, when he decided it might be for real, he thought for sure his father would tell him he wasn’t allowed to go, but even that didn’t happen. John had just grumbled about the amount of money he was going to have to spend on books about bullshit.

He had made Sam spend the day at the neighbours’ place when he took Dean to London to get the books and a wand, and he hadn’t allowed Dean to look at anything that wasn’t on his shopping list—no owls, no brooms, not even the cute little ice cream shop at the corner of the cobbled street. Dean wanted to begrudge his father for it, but, again, he has a wand. A real, magic wand made and sold by a strange old man who explained to him it was made of cedar wood and unicorn hair, which made Dean feel a bit weird because, a) unicorns were actually real, and b) apparently something about him made this the best match for him rather than something cool like dragon heartstring. He doesn’t know exactly what it means, because he didn’t want to find out the answer with his father there, but he’s kinda glad Sam wasn’t there.

The second whistle is what brings him back to the present. He finally lets go of Sam and gets back upright, nodding at his father in a somewhat uncomfortable way. John gives him an equally uncomfortable clap on his shoulder. “Good luck, son.”

“Thanks. I gotta run before it leaves without me.” That, at least, is true—he’s only inside the train just in time before it starts moving. He doesn’t move into any compartment until the platform disappears around the corner and he has to stop waving at Sam.

This is it, then.

He makes his way further into the train, trying to find a compartment that isn’t occupied with people who clearly all already know each other. He doesn’t find one until he gets to the very end, where there’s only a single guy staring out the window. “Um, hey. Do you mind if I join you here? Everwhere’s full.”

The boy looks up at him with startlingly blue eyes—which is a weird thing to notice about someone right away, Dean thinks, but it’s hard not to. “Yes, of course.”

Dean sits down opposite him, only quickly shooting a look out the window. It’s covered in rain drops, because this is the United Kingdom, and it never stops raining here. “I’m Dean.”

“Hello, Dean,” says the boy. “Castiel.”

“Bless you.”

The boy frowns. “Thank you?”

 _That was his name, you idiot_ , Dean’s brain finally supplies. Great. He’s not even arrived at this school and he’s already messing up. “So… this your first year, too?”

“Yes,” says Castiel, finally properly looking at Dean. “Although I have brothers who have already been at Hogwarts for several years.”

“Cool,” says Dean.

“I have a lot to live up to.” The boy shrugs. “I take it you are the first, then?”

“Man, I didn’t even know magic is like, a real thing until a few months ago. Yeah, I’m the first.”

Castiel narrows his eyes. “You sound like you should be going to Ilvermorny.”

“To what?”

“In the United States. You are American, correct?”

It’s not a big secret, and Dean still thinks it’s the British that sound stupid, not him, but he does hate it when people point out to him that he doesn’t sound anything like them even if he has lived here most of his life. It’s not Dean’s fault they never moved back to the States—it’s a mystery why not, because John hates everything that isn’t American—and he sure isn’t going to apologise for it. “What of it?”

Castiel shrugs, but doesn’t say anything else. Dean’s already regretting sitting down here, and there’s still hours to go before they get to this school. How is it that Europe is so small, but everything is so slow all at the same time? From what his father sometimes told them, he would drive insane distances in a few hours back when he lived in North America, and his Dad isn’t even a wizard.

Those stupid blue eyes keep watching Dean with interest for a while, even as Dean stubbornly stares out the window, and then again when Dean finally pulls out a book because there’s nothing else to do on this train. The only interruption he gets is when the food trolley comes by. Cool. He could do with a hot dog or something.

“Just a Cauldron Cake, thank you,” he hears Castiel say, which, what? Dean has lived in England long enough to know that that isn’t a normal thing to order. He’s lived here long enough to know that nothing on the trolley is a normal thing to order. “Um,” he says. “What he got. And some juice, please.”

“You got it, dear,” says the lady.

He has to admit the cake is pretty good, at least.

 

It’s dark when they finally arrive at the castle, but at least it isn’t raining here. That’s good, because there’s a giant yelling for the first-years to follow him to a lake while everyone else is running toward what looks like horse-drawn carriages waiting for them in the distance, and he really would hate if they were the only ones who have to wait in the rain for whatever it is they’re going to do.

Which, apparently, is to hop in a tiny boat that sails itself towards—

Holy crap.

“It’s beautiful,” Castiel whispers behind Dean, as if he hadn’t known exactly what to expect. He’s right, though. The castle is massive, that’s obvious even in the near-darkness, if only because of all the lights in the windows that go on forever. Dean’s seen castles before, but most of them were either partly in ruins, uninhabited, or a little too kitsch for his liking. This? This is something out of a fairy tale, except even bigger.

He wishes he could take a photograph to send to Sam, but he doesn’t own a camera, and somehow he doesn’t think it would be allowed. Besides, he doesn’t want to ruin the surprise for when Sam gets to see this with his own eyes in a few years.

No one says anything except for _ooh_ and _aah_ and _it’s so beautiful_ all the rest of the way. Dean doesn’t say anything at all, but he’s thinking it all the same.

“Alright,” says the giant when the first boat softly bumps against a dock. “Get out of yer boats, but wait here until everyone’s ready ter go. I don’ want any of ye to get lost on yer first day.”

Most of them look equally nervous, so they do exactly as they’ve been told, all huddled together until the last girl has climbed out of her boat and the giant tells them all to follow him. Dean feels a little ridiculous. It’s like they’re on a field trip, except this is actually the school.

The hallways they pass through are lit, but empty, which gives a weird atmosphere to such a big castle. A little creepy, to be honest. There was a train full of kids—where’d they all go?

“Wait here,” the giant tells them. “Someone will be with you in a second.” And then he’s gone.

Great.

“Oy!” a voice says almost right after, pulling the attention of many nervous faces towards him. “You.”

It’s a skinny boy whose robes look just a slight too big on him. He’s only one of the few who doesn’t look very nervous at all. In fact, he’s smiling, although it doesn’t fully reach his eyes—Dean hopes that has to do something with nerves, after all, because the boy is looking straight at him. “What did I hear, then? Dean Winchester is among us?”

Some people mutter something, as if Dean’s full name means something to them. Most keep watching them in silence.

“Yeah?” Dean says, because he has no good comeback yet.

“Interesting,” says the boy. “Very interesting. My name is Alastair. Alastair Heyer.” He sticks out a hand. Dean doesn’t take it. “Lovely to make your acquaintance, Dean. I think we may have a good time here together.”

“Sure,” Dean says, but he’s saved from having to shake Alastair’s hand by a woman appearing at the entrance of the room. Alastair slinks back into the group, still smiling for some reason. Dean decides he doesn’t like the boy much.

“The time has come for your sorting,” the woman says, and, what? Alastair distracted Dean long enough not to think about what’s going to happen next, but the nerves are slamming back into him twice as bad as before. A sorting? For what? Are they going to test his skill level? Is he going to end up at the lowest step before he’s even had a chance to learn anything?

The woman is explaining something about houses to them, but Dean’s ears are buzzing so loud he barely makes out what she’s saying. Stupid. She might be explaining what kind of test they’re going to have to do, and here Dean is freaking out too much to even listen to it. So he just follows the group into the next hall, and, oh. That’s where all the other students went. Four long tables filled with them, all clad in the same robes as Dean changed into on the train, except with different coloured additions to it. There, at the edge, everyone is wearing green ties and crests. One table has yellow details, one blue, one red… It has to have something to do with the sorting. Except there’s kids of all ages on every table, so maybe it isn’t about skill level?

Dean is so absorbed by the room (big and imposing and almost ceiling-less, except he realises that it’s fake—enchanted—to look like they’re outside when they aren’t) and its occupants that he almost misses the fact that there’s an old hat sitting on a small wooden stool, and it’s moving as if it’s speaking. No—singing.

Apparently all they need to do is sit down, put on the hat, and it’ll tell them which table to sit at. Sounds easy enough, save for the fact that Dean is sure he doesn’t fit into any of the categories described.

Worse, they’re called in alphabetical order, so he has all the time in the world to overthink it while he watches Bradbury, Charlie sorted into Slytherin (the green), as well as Heyer, Alastair, Masters, Meg, and Novak, Castiel,the messy-haired boy from the train; Harvelle, Jo and Lafitte, Benny into Gryffindor (red); and an endless list of other names before it’s finally his own turn. “Winchester, Dean!”

Well, here goes nothing.

The hat slips halfway over his eyes, so at least he doesn’t have to see everyone staring at him. Doesn’t stop making him feel ridiculous.

“Ah, Dean Winchester,” the Hat says in his ear. “An honour to have you on this side of the Atlantic, indeed. As brave as your mother, I’ll believe, and smart, too. Where do I put you?”

Dean doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know what it means to be in which house, he just wants to be off this stage already, somewhere he can hide between others.

“Great potential,” says the Hat. “I think I know exactly the right place for you.” And then, much louder, its voice ringing through the hall, “HUFFLEPUFF!”

Dean yanks off the hat and hurries toward one of the middle tables, the yellow one, where everyone is cheering for him. At least that’s over with.

 

**02\. Second year.**

“Dean! Hey, are you—are you here alone?”

Dean shrugs. It’s not a big deal, really. So what if his Dad didn’t even want to bother waving him goodbye? It’s been a really tense summer and he’s glad to be going back to school today. Words he’d never thought would ever be true, but here he is.

“Do you… wanna talk about it?”

“Not really, no.”

“Okay,” Charlie says. “I was brought by Jo’s parents, so we can go say hi to them if you want?”

Jo is Charlie’s best friend, a petite blonde Gryffindor who looks a lot less dangerous than she probably is. It never ceases to amaze Dean how easily Charlie makes friends with people from every house. She’s single-handedly ending Slytherin’s bad rep. Or she would, if the Novaks weren’t doing everything in their power to prove that Charlie is the exception, not the rule.

Jo is also a whirlwind, and Dean is enveloped in a hug before he really notices her. He’s not much of a hugger, himself, so he awkwardly wraps his arms around her. “Hey, Jo.”

“I missed you,” she says to his neck before pulling away. “Damn, Dean, you’re just getting taller and taller.”

“Language,” admonishes a stern-looking woman who must be Jo’s mother.

“Right, sorry,” says Jo. “I meant, bloody hell, Dean, you’re getting tall.”

Ellen Harvelle rolls her eyes, but smiles at Dean. “Dean Winchester. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“You, too, Mrs Harvelle.”

“Ellen, please.” She’s looking at him in a much softer way than her earlier tone to Jo suggested she is, and it makes Dean a little uncomfortable. He hasn’t had a mother figure in a long time, but he’s pretty sure that’s how Mary Winchester would’ve looked at him if she were here right now. As if she can read his thoughts, Ellen tells him, “You look so much like your mother, Dean.”

“You—You knew my mom?”

“We went to Ilvermorny together.”

God, it’s only the first day of school—they’re not even on the train yet—and Dean’s already so tired. “Mom was a witch?”

He vaguely registers that was a shocking thing to say, because everyone falls quiet at that. “Oh, dear,” says Ellen. “You didn’t know?” He sees her look around the platform, but she doesn’t find what she’s looking for, because she turns back to him. “Yeah, Dean, your mother was a witch. A pretty damn good one, too. Did your father not tell you?”

Obviously not, or Dean wouldn’t be standing here like this right now. “Dad didn’t really tell me much of anything.” Like that magic exists at all, or that Hufflepuff is the house where all the rejects go—well, he did tell Dean that, but after the fact—or how his mother died. They had to weasel that out of John.

Well, after the summer, it wasn’t too hard to guess. Dean thought his father’s anger would’ve died down a little, a year after getting that letter, but seeing Sam playing with Chocolate Frog cards had just fuelled the anger. It hadn’t made sense to Dean at first. Surely John wasn’t jealous of Dean having magic, was he?

_“Dean, I think mom died because of magic.”_

Dean hates that this is a thing his little brother has to think about. The kid is only eight. But he’s stupidly smart, too, and Dean thinks he’s probably right. Dean isn’t allowed to do magic at home, legally, but even if he could, he knows John would put a stop to it. It’s why he isn’t here today, too.

“Of course he didn’t,” Ellen says with a sigh. “How’s little Sam? Is he here?”

“Dad wouldn’t let him come,” Dean admits. “It’s fine. I’ll see him over Christmas.” Not that he’s looking forward to going back home again, but not going back is worse. He can deal with John if it means seeing Sam.

“I’m sorry, honey,” Ellen says.

“Whatever,” says Dean. “I’m gonna go find us a spot.”

He makes sure to leave as soon as he says it, just so they won’t be able to stop him. Jo and Charlie are great friends, but Dean doesn’t like talking about his family, and that ain’t changing just because it’s them.

He passes the Novaks on his way—he knows because the shortest of the lot whistles when he passes by, because that one’s exactly that kind of asshole—but doesn’t so much as turn his head to look at them. Instead, he hops into the train as one of the first people, claims a whole compartment, and waits for his friends to turn up. Charlie and Jo don’t let him wait long, and when they do, they don’t make him talk about his summer, for which Dean is grateful. Charlie doesn’t talk much about hers, either, so it’s really just Jo talking until her Gryffindor friends Benny and Aaron and Dean’s friend Viktor turn up.

The compartment is a lot more crowded than last year’s, and the trip a lot more fun with these people, and Dean finds himself taking a moment to just look at them all and wonder what on earth he did to deserve to be in this spot, right now, with such a bunch of awesome people. In a few hours, he’s going to be back at the castle he gets to call home for the next months, and he’s going to be allowed to do actual, real-life magic again.

His first year was good, but this one is going to be a lot better.

 

**03\. Third year.**

“Winchester! How was your summer?” Charlie asks the first morning back, when they aren’t forced to stick to their house tables like at the welcoming feast. Dean hadn’t seen her on the train, which means she must’ve come directly from St Mungo’s. By the time he finally did see her, they were forced to sit on separate tables again. For being in a house that has as bad a reputation as Slytherin, Charlie is surprisingly awesome.

“Great,” Dean says. It’s only partly a lie. “Good to see Sammy again, mostly. I swear the kid grows a head taller every time I don’t see him a few months.”

“Isn’t he nine years old?” she asks, taking a bite of her sandwich.

“Didn’t say he’s actually tall, did I?” Already looks like he will be, though. Dean resents that only a little bit. “Anyway, same old, y’know?” Dad drank a lot. I took Sam swimming and fishing as often as I got the chance just so we could be away from him. He doesn’t say it, but Charlie knows. She’s the only one he’s ever told even parts of it.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” she says after swallowing her food.

“’s Fine. Good to see the kid again.” He’d bought half the trolley on the way back home just so he could watch Sam’s face light up when he got all that candy (and again when he tried the Every-Flavour Beans). It was worth every shitty moment of the entire summer. “How’re you, Charles?”

She shrugs. “Same old,” she repeats his own answer to him. Charlie’s mother is in the magical hospital, so she lives with a distant uncle and only goes back over the summer. Dean already feels guilty for complaining again. At least he still has his Dad.

“Anyway,” Charlie says, “what’s your schedule look like today?”

“Startin’ the day with Potions,” says Dean, “but you already knew that, ‘cuz it’s with you guys, just like the past two years.”

She grins.

“I dunno.” He checks the rest of his schedule. “Ugh, Transfiguration. Also with you guys. Who’d you bribe to get that fixed, Charles? Because you know I love you, but you also know I hate everyone else in your house.”

“They’re not that bad,” says the Slytherin.

“Sure they aren’t,” Dean says, trying and failing not to look at what is normally the Slytherin table, where Castiel is talking to a shorter but older Slytherin boy. They never talked much after their disappointing introduction on the train, but Dean hates the other boy’s attitude, like he knows everything better. Sure, he does, but that’s only because he comes from a family of wizards and witches. Dean had to learn everything by himself, from how to get an owl to find his home address to send packages to Sam, to not getting a heart attack every time a ghost floats through a wall.

“Don’t be a baby,” Charlie says. “You’re as good as they are, if not better. Just because these asshats knew that magic exists before you did doesn’t make them any better at it.” Almost their entire family is in Slytherin, meaning that Charlie sees a lot more of them than Dean does. That’s something of a comfort, at least, because at least Dean can say it’s not because he’s prejudiced that they’re really just horrible. “Let’s go. Slughorn isn’t going to be pleased if you arrive late at his very first class of the year, not even you.”

She’s right at that, at least, so Dean pushes away his plate, grabs his bag, and follows his friend to the dungeons.

Charlie and Dean have been an unlikely Potions team ever since their first class, and no one is surprised at seeing them hang out together anymore. Plus, it saves Dean from having to work with Chuck, who’s the worst Potions students in all of Hufflepuff. Possibly in the entire school. Dean only feels a little guilty for making Mick put up with it instead.

Mick is good, though, so that kinda saves everyone.

Slughorn isn’t there yet, so they wait outside the classroom until he arrives to open the door for them. Unfortunately, that means nothing is stopping Alastair from being his usual asshole self. “How was your summer, Winchester?”

“Fine,” Dean says.

“Ooh, someone’s not happy to be back here, is he? What’s the matter, Winchester, missing your mommy when you’re not at home?”

Alastair knows perfectly well Dean’s mother is dead, which makes the jab a lot more malicious than it sounds at first. Dean knows full well he can’t give the guy what he deserves—a good punch in the face—and Alastair knows it, too. They also both know that mentioning Dean’s mother is the easiest way to rile him up.

Charlie grabs one of Dean’s hands, which is balled tightly into a fist. “C’mon, don’t. He’s not worth the detention.”

Dean isn’t so sure about that.

Thankfully, that’s when Slughorn arrives, and because the jovial man apparently likes Dean, he greets him specifically. “Welcome back, boy. Welcome back, everyone!”

It’s then that the Novaks—Anna and Castiel—and their smarmy friend Balthazar finally saunter into the classroom. The Novaks are twins, though you wouldn’t say it at first sight except for both their piercing blue eyes. They’re also both gorgeous in an effortless way that Dean secretly envies a little.

They take their place at their usual spot, a little away from their fellow Slytherins, on the opposite side of the classroom from Dean and Charlie. It leaves Alastair’s friends all the room to pull faces at Dean and Charlie, but Dean’s learned over the last year to ignore those well enough. Even if they have added kiss-y sounds to their repertoire this year.

“What do you think they’d do if we actually started making out right in front of them?”

“Charlie, what the—”

“I don’t mean for real, Dean, jeez, calm down. Also, no offence, but ew.”

“Thanks,” Dean says.

“Sorry,” says Charlie. “Anyway, not the point I was trying to make, here. I meant… What if the things that they think should bother us, we would just… own? You know what I mean?”

“Take whatever shitty thing they throw at us and rock it?” Dean suggests with a smirk.

“Exactly.”

 

**04\. Fourth year.**

This year, Sam is there at the platform again. It’s only one more year until the kid himself is allowed to come to Hogwarts with Dean, and Dean is irrationally excited about it. The first time he learned that magic doesn’t always run in the entire family, he had a minor panic attack, but Sam’s showed him a few tricks last week that even the best Muggle magician couldn’t have pulled off. Small things, of course, nothing that would make their Dad storm up and yell at them, and certainly nothing that would make any Ministry officials come barging in, but magic nonetheless.

It makes it a little easier for Dean to leave again, but only a little.

It also means that for the first time in three years, Dean isn’t the first one to hop on the train, because he wants to stick with Sam as long as he possibly can.

“Dean, I’m gonna be right there with you next year,” Sam says in that annoyed tone of voice only little brothers can manage. It’s impossible to keep the excitement out of his voice, though, especially now that he’s actually on the platform again, watching the owls and the trunks and all the people catching up again after a whole summer apart, while also saying goodbye to others after a whole summer together. “Don’t you have friends to meet up with?”

“I’m gonna be seeing them for the rest of the school year, Sammy. They can do without me for a few minutes longer.”

“I dunno,” Sam says, “that guy looks like he’s been waiting forever to talk to you.”

It’s probably Garth, because Garth always looks like he’s been waiting forever to talk to anyone, but Dean can’t control his curiosity and looks up anyway—right into the blue eyes of a certain Slytherin.

“Nah,” Dean says. “He’s probably just curious. I shouldn’t be leaving you on the platform all by yourself.” Sam is ten years old. He’s safe here, among their own kind, and John will be waiting just outside on the Muggle part of the station, but it feels wrong to leave the kid here alone anyway. “You know what, I know someone who wants to meet you, though.”

“Me?” Sam scrunches up his face. “Dean, have you been talking about me?”

“Don’t think yourself too important, kid,” Dean says, even though he has been talking about Sam to anyone who will listen. He’s not ashamed of that, but that doesn’t mean Sam needs to know about it, either. “Ellen!” He waves at the group of people standing a while away. “Hey, Ellen! Remember when you said you wanted to meet my brother?”

It’s as good a solution as any. She did want to meet Sam, and Sam will be in good hands until he gets back to John. It just means Ellen might actually have to meet John.

He’d like to think they can both find it in them to be civil to each other for Sam’s sake, but in reality, he’s not so sure.

All too soon, the train is making its way away from the platform again, and away from Dean’s little brother. Next year, at least, he’ll be on it, too.

“Aw, would you look at that? Someone’s about to cry, boys.”

Dean doesn’t have to turn around to recognise that horrible voice.

“What’s the matter, Winchester, already missing some Muggle girlfriend of yours? Should just stay on the platform and go home with her where you belong.”

“Leave him alone, Alastair,” Jo snaps.

“Jealous, Harvelle?” Alastair says with a smirk, and Dean can’t help but flick his eyes at Jo when she doesn’t respond. Her cheeks are a little red from anger, though.

“What do you want?” he asks, finally turning to face Alastair. The boy is standing in the door opening of their compartment, flanked, as usual, by his friends Zaze and Uriel. They’re all mean and ugly, but Alastair is the meanest and the ugliest, so he’s in charge—and they’ve only been getting worse through the years.

“Come on, Winchester, you know what I want. You don’t need this little gang of Mudbloods and traitors, do you?”

“And you don’t need to insult my friends, but here we are.” How Alastair thinks he’ll get Dean to hang out with him by being horrible to him and his friends is a mystery to anyone. Jo says it’s the evil Slytherin version of pulling pigtails, but Dean rejects that thought, because he can’t imagine Charlie doing anything like that. And because he shudders at the thought of Alastair doing that to him, too.

“Here we are,” Alastair agrees, making his way further into the compartment and grabbing a pumpkin pastry from the seat next to Dean. “Excellent choice.”

“No one invited you,” Charlie snaps.

“I know, sweetheart.” He wedges his way in between Dean and Charlie anyway, and Dean wants to punch him in the face. (Hexes are awesome, yeah, but nothing beats a good old right hook.) Except he’s going to get in serious trouble if he’s caught fighting again, and they aren’t even at school yet.

Besides, Zaze and Uriel may be mean bullies, but they aren’t dumb mean bullies. Jo and Charlie can hold their own—Jo’s faster than anyone Dean knows when it comes to hexes—but he doesn’t want to risk it. If he just ignores Alastair long enough, he’ll get bored and go away eventually. Right?

Except Alastair’s hand on Dean’s knee is suggesting otherwise.

“That’s enough,” Jo snaps, pulling her wand and pointing it at the Slytherin. “Get out, you disgusting snake, you’re not welcome here.”

Alastair doesn’t look particularly bothered by the threat. He doesn’t even remove his hand. “I’m sure your little crush can decide that for himself. Can’t you, Winchester?”

“Get off me, Alastair.”

The Slytherin cackles, in the kind of way Dean always thought only happened in movies. “Boy, you kids who have been raised by mud-monkeys are so easy to rile up.” But at least he gets up and leaves, taking a handful of candy with him and leaving Dean uneasy and confused.

Outside the door of their compartment, he can see a glimpse of Castiel Novak’s confused frown.

“He’s just trying to make you uncomfortable,” Charlie says. “You should just push him off, Dean, he doesn’t get to assault you like that.”

“As—Christ, Charlie, I’m fine, I can deal with him.”

“I just wish you didn’t have to,” she says sadly. “Man, I just hope he doesn’t get that Prefect badge next year, he’s horrible enough already when there are no teachers around. If he gets any more power, I might just kill him before he gets to torture me.”

“Nah, it’s gonna be the Novak boy,” Jo says, popping a Bertie Bott’s Bean in her mouth and pulling a face at whichever terrible flavour she got. “Only decent guy in your house, I swear.”

“You’re just saying that because you think he’s cute.”

“He is cute, have you got eyes?”

Dean tunes out their conversation again, because he’s really not interested in whichever guys girls think are cute. There’s a few pretty girls in their year—Dean shared his first ever kiss with Cassie from Gryffindor last year, and it was pretty friggin’ great, if he’s honest—but he doesn’t gush over them. Not that he’ll ever call it that to Charlie or Jo’s faces if he wants to not break his nose.

Anyway, Cassie is cute, but Dean’s not really looking for someone to walk around the castle holding hands with. And alright, maybe she never sought him out again after that, because he’s not as great a kisser as he hopes to be or something like that, probably.

“Dean?” Charlie’s calling his name. “Are you sure you’re alright? Do you need some chocolate?”

“I don’t even like chocolate.”

“Pie, then.”

“Wouldn’t say no to pie.”

“Dean, come on, I know you’re a guy and that makes you think you don’t need to talk about anything ever, but this emo mood is dragging the whole mood down with you. Out with it. What’s wrong?”

“Mom didn’t die in a fire.”

The girls stare at him.

“She left the States because she wanted to keep us safe from this a-hole—this dark wizard who she knew was after her. So she came here. And she got killed anyway.” He closes his eyes. All he sees is flashes of red and green. “She was… She was a big name back home. I knew that. But she left all that so Sammy and me—”

“So you’d be safe,” Charlie says quietly.

“Yeah, well. Look where that got us.”

“Is that why your Dad… You know...”

“Hates magic?” Dean asks Jo, because they both know John does. It’s why Dean has to tell his owl, Baby, that she can only deliver his letters to Sam at night when John is asleep. It’s why his father never writes him, though Dean still gets post, because Sam does write back. It’s also why John hasn’t come to the platform with him since his first year. “Yeah. He didn’t even know magic existed till she died, y’know? Shitty way to find out.”

“That’s not an excuse,” Jo says.

Dean shrugs. He knows that, and it really hurts that his father can’t manage to see the good things about magic even when his own son is a wizard, too, but the man is still his father.

You don’t get to choose family.

 

**05\. Fifth year.**

“Need help with that trunk?” Dean asks, a smirk playing around his lips when he sees Sam struggling to drag his luggage into the train. The trunk’s bigger than the kid is.

“I can do it, Dean,” Sam snaps, because he’s eleven and nervous and if Dean could do it by himself, then Sam can, too.

Dean’s just watching him, arms crossed, grinning stupidly while he watches his brother suffer. It’s only when he can see Sam’s about to give up and ask for his older brother’s help that he wordlessly casts a Wingardium leviosa—non-verbal spells are something he’s been practising all year last year, and this is the only one he can manage so far, but it’s clearly the most fun one. Sam gives a last hard pull on the trunk and nearly falls over from the sudden lightness. He turns bright red, but tries to cover it up by saying, “See, I can do it myself just fine.”

“Isn’t that right,” Dean says. “I’ll take everything back, then. You clearly don’t need your embarrassing older brother to help you.”

“What—Dean, where are you going? Dean!”

He can’t help but burst out laughing, then, as he turns on his heel to face Sam again. “Your face, Sam! Calm down, I wouldn’t leave you to get on the train all alone. You know me.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Aw, come on. It’s a little funny.”

Apparently, Sam’s nervous enough that it only takes a few seconds to forgive Dean, because the kid still follows him to a compartment where Jo and Benny are already seated. Charlie’s not with them, which means she won’t be coming to Hogwarts by train again this year. Her mother’s condition has been getting worse, and apparently, not even magic can heal her anymore. Dean isn’t sure exactly what’s wrong, but he does know it’s unlikely Mrs Bradbury will make it to next summer at all.

No one mentions that, of course. Especially not with the newbie in their midst.

“Sam!” Jo greets him happily, because she loves the kid like he’s her own little brother. “I see you’re finally getting to join us. Excited?”

“Of course!” says Sam. “Dean’s told me a lot about the castle and the feasts and all the adventures you guys have, and I get to see real ghosts, too! Do you talk to them a lot? They sound so interesting—”

“Sammy, I swear, if you’re just gonna freak out about ghosts and their place in history again—”

“Naw, don’t listen to him,” Benny says. “It’s your first day! You get to be excited about ghosts before you find out how horribly boring Nick is...”

It’s good, the way Dean’s friends allow Sam into their group even though he’s only eleven and they don’t even know the kid. All that matters to them is that Dean cares, and that this is Sam’s first day and everyone’s first day is nerve-racking, even for those who have always known about magic and Hogwarts and everything.

“May I join?”

Speaking of—

“Yeah, sure, come in.”

Dean’s never discriminated about which colours are allowed into their compartment. Gryffindor red is usually the best represented, but Dean and Viktor bring in their yellow and black ties, and Charlie provides a splash of green (and red, too, what with her hair and all) in their midst. And yet, somehow, he’d never expected to allow more green into the group.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas.”

“Hello to you, too, Novak,” Benny drawls when it appears that’s all the conversation they’re going to get out of Castiel. “Not sticking with your friends today?”

Benny, for some reason, doesn’t like Cas. Sure, Dean can get not liking the Slytherin’s friends—Balthazar is a cocky asshole, and Castiel’s sister Anna is alright, but there’s definitely something about her that sets Dean on edge a little. Like she could still turn on him for the slightest reason.

But Cas? He’s good.

Meaning he punched Alastair in the face for Dean last year.

“I can handle myself just fine, you asshat.”

“I know. I just really wanted to do that.”

Hard to argue with logic like that.

So, yeah, they kinda got off on the wrong foot, all those years ago. It’s not like they’ve suddenly become best friends or anything. Cas still hangs out with dicks who think they’re better than everybody else, and if Dean’s entirely honest, his new friend has a tendency to act like that, too.

Then again, maybe Dean of all people isn’t the best person to judge that.

Even with Sam and Castiel there, the train journey is about the same as it always is. Viktor turns up after a while, too, and it’s a little crowded with six people in there, but that also means more people to buy and share candy, so no one’s going to complain.

They all change into their robes only after most of the candy is gone. Jo actually leaves to go get changed, which is weird, because she’s never cared about changing in front of them before. Girls are weird.

Sam, though—he looks strangely small in his new robes. Maybe it’s got something to do with the fact that he looks like he’s about to faint any moment. Dean remembers how real the robes it all made it seem on his first day, how he’d gone from Dean the Muggle to a wannabe wizard in only a few minutes. “Hey. Sam. You got this, alright?”

“Yeah,” says Sam.

“No need to be nervous. Don’t matter where you end up, you’re gonna do great anywhere, and you’re gonna make some awesome new friends and forget all about your annoying older brother while you’re here. Capiche?”

“Yeah,” says Sam again. Dean’s pretty sure his brother has no idea what he just said, but he lets it go. He does keep an eye on Sam for the remainder of the journey, though, just in case the kid actually does faint from nerves. That wouldn’t make for a great first impression. All those first-years just wanna make new friends and feel at home, but no eleven-year-old wants to make friends with the weirdo who faints before even getting to school.

“You’re mother-henning again,” Jo says, knocking her elbow into Dean’s arm to catch his attention as he watches the kids gather around Hagrid to get to the little boats. “He’s going to be fine.”

“I know! I know.”

The five of them make their way to the carriages that will take them up to the castle. It’s nice and dry, but Dean sometimes wishes he could get to do the boat thing again. The castle’s always pretty, but it’s never going to look as awesome as it did that day.

He and Viktor say goodbye to their friends when they get to the Great Hall and make their way to the Hufflepuff table. Lisa Braeden is already sitting there, looking even prettier than at the end of last year with her now tanned skin. Dean would swear her hair is longer, too. She’s always been girly and pretty, but the last months before summer, she really grew into that look, Dean thinks.

“Hey, Lis. How’s your summer been?”

“Dean! It’s good to see you again.” Her smile is wide and beautiful. “I spent the summer in France to learn the language a bit better, but I mostly spent the time eating cheese and lying in the sun.” Her eyes are sparkling as she says it, in a way that makes Dean believe she isn’t saying it to brag, but just because she genuinely enjoyed it. “How are you guys?”

Viktor just mumbles something about having had a great summer, thanks, then lets Dean take over the conversation again so he can talk about Sam. Viktor’s unlikely best friend Garth has joined them, and it leaves Dean free to talk to Lisa until the first-years shuffle into the Great Hall.

Dean can easily spot Sam’s floppy hair from where he’s sitting. He has to restrain himself from catching his brother’s eye and giving him a thumbs up, because he has the feeling the kid might just resent him for embarrassing him yet again. Dean might enjoy it sometimes, he also wants Sam to have a good first day, and he’s not going to ruin the Sorting Ceremony of al things for him.

The annoying thing about having a last name that starts with W, though, means that he has to sit through a long line of sortings he doesn’t care about before it’s finally “Winchester, Sam!”’s turn to put the ugly old hat over his face.

It takes a horribly long time for the hat to decide, too, although that might just be the way Dean sees it. No one else mentions it or looks confused, so it probably doesn’t take that much longer than average for the hat to finally shout, “RAVENCLAW!” and Sam to hop off the stool with a look of relief on his face.

It wouldn’t have mattered to Dean where his little brother ended up—even if he’s a little sad that it isn’t Hufflepuff, he’s managed all these years without Sam even being in the same country—but he’s still proud of the little nerd.

 

**06\. Sixth year.**

“Dean,” Charlie says in a low, unsure voice. “Dean, what are those?”

“What?”

“Those...things that draw the carriages.”

“Charles, what are you—they’ve always been there.”

“No, they haven’t.”

“They have,” says a gravelly voice behind them. “I’m sorry for your loss, Charlie.”

The voice is unmistakably Cas’s, but Charlie still turns around sharply to face him. “What did you say?”

“You lost someone,” Cas says. “That’s why you can see them, now. You lost someone and you were there when it happened.”

“Charles,” Dean says, stopping as well so he can put his hands on his friend’s shoulders. “Hey, c’mon. Breathe. I know it’s hard, and it sucks, but you’re gonna get through this, okay? These things aren’t gonna hurt you. They’ve always pulled the carriages, I swear.” He shoots an annoyed look at Cas, because as nice as the guy is, he has no clue about social conventions sometimes. Dean’s decided that it isn’t so much that the Slytherin doesn’t care about people, just that his people skills aren’t very great. Doesn’t make it better at moments like these, though. “Cas, why don’t you go on ahead without us, huh?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know, buddy. Keep a free spot for her at your table, but just…” Dean waves his hand awkwardly.

Castiel looks a little concerned, but he hurries on ahead anyway. Dean has no doubt the other boy will be waiting for Charlie at the Slytherin table with a free spot and a lot of apologies, and he’s kinda grateful to finally learn a little something about those things that pull the carriages, but now just isn’t the time.

“You alright getting into one of these?”

“Yeah,” she says. “I’m being stupid. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not stupid,” Dean says, because it isn’t.

“You shouldn’t have sent Cas away for my sake.”

He rolls his eyes. “Cas will live. I’ll talk to him at breakfast tomorrow. You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure. Thanks, Dean.”

“’s Nothing.”

It’s one of those days where he especially hates the divide of the Great Hall (and the entire school) into four, because he has to leave Charlie for his own table far too soon. None of their friends are in Slytherin with Charlie to support her, and on top of that, she’s going to have to look alright so she can avoid the attention of Alastair and his gang.

Cas is their friend now, too, though. He may not be great at emotional situations, he’s already a lot more open than he was when Dean first met him. Hell, he’s gotten a lot better even in the last year or so. And he’s a lot better than any of his siblings—Dean still shudders at the thought of the way Michael would leer at him last year, or that time in third year when Gabriel decided that it was time to play a prank on the poor Hufflepuffs.

Nice Slytherins exist. They’re just rare.

“Stop ogling him,” Viktor says from next to Dean, rolling his eyes.

“Jesus, Vik.”

“Jesus don’t have anything to do with that, Winchester.” There’s mirth in his eyes, though, so Dean is pretty sure his friend wouldn’t actually be bothered. You know, if he were ogling the Slytherin boy. Which he isn’t.

The arrival of the food is a blessing, mostly because it draws Dean’s attention away from the Slytherin table and back to his own—literally.

He just hopes this day won’t set a precedent for the rest of the year.

 

**07\. Seventh year.**

“Can you believe it’s the last time we’re on this platform as students?”

“Gotta actually get our NEWTs first, don’t be too optimistic.”

“Don’t be an ass,” Jo says. “We’ve all done fine so far.”

That’s true—Dean’s still surprised that he’s made it to seventh year without a hitch, having started at complete zero that day six years ago when he first set foot on this platform, and yet here he is, about to board the Hogwarts Express for the last time. It’s almost nostalgic already. No dramatic goodbyes to Sam—the kid is already on the train with his friends, his big brother no longer interesting. Next year, Dean’s gonna be on the other side of that bit, being left behind while Sam is off at school making new friends and eventually meeting girls Dean won’t be able to tease him about.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas.”

“Any reason we’re still here rather than on the train?”

“I guess not.”

He’s never actually talked to Cas on the platform before. Hell, the first few years at Hogwarts, Dean thought Cas was an asshole, because let’s be real, most of the Novaks are.

Cas has always arrived with his family before, and there isn’t really anyone likeable there, if you ask Dean. But Cas and Anna are the youngest ones, and their older siblings aren’t here to wave them off for their last year at Hogwarts—Dean supposes everything gets normal after a while, even more so after a whole bunch of kids have already finished their education there. Still, he tells himself he’s never not gonna see Sammy off. Dean will be eighteen next year, he can drive them, then.

“Come on, Dean!” Jo yells from the train. Dean hadn’t even noticed her getting on it, but when he looks around, he realises that all of his friends are gone except for Cas.

Everyone’s somehow crammed themselves into one compartment—Jo, Benny, Viktor, Charlie, even Garth is there. Seven people is a tight fit, but despite everyone’s complaining, no one genuinely seems to mind. Dean finds himself crammed between Cas and Benny, the latter of whom has Jo half on his lap because they’re disgusting like that. He doesn’t complain, though—their insistence on sitting together means he has an excuse to press close to Cas.

Fine, so Dean may have a tiny crush. And, fine, he doesn’t need the looks Viktor and Charlie are sending him to know that everyone knows about his crush. Shut up. Just because Cas is cute doesn’t mean Dean wants anything serious with him—or, more like, Cas doesn’t want anything serious with Dean.

At least this last Hogwarts Express ride with him is less awkward than the first, when Dean spent most of the time reading because the stupid, blue-eyed kid opposite him just didn’t talk to ‘mud-monkeys’, as Luke Novak has called Dean more than once.

“I suggest,” Jo says loudly, “a game.”

“Aw, hell, Jo.”

“Shut up, Winchester, you’re joining whether you like it or not.”

“At least tell me it’s not the one with the Bertie Bott’s.”

“You’re so boring.”

“What game is this?” Castiel asks, because he’s been fortunate enough never to spend a whole day on a train with Jo before and has no idea what’s coming for him.

“It’s simple,” she says, a glint in her eyes that shows her excitement about finally having someone new to the game again (Dean forbade her to drag Sam into this crap two years ago). “Like a Muggle drinking game, really.”

Cas, of course, grew up among pure-blooded wizards and is just seventeen, which means he’s never played a Muggle drinking game, either.

She lazily waves her wand for a deck of cards to float out of her bag, opens it, then makes the whole pile float in the air somewhere in the middle of the compartment. “Short version, all cards have numbers between one and nine, and each of these numbers mean something. If that something applies to you, you eat a Bean.”

“...Alright,” Cas says slowly.

“Wait! There’s more. There’s the Master Bean,” she says gleefully. “That’s the one everyone unanimously decides looks like it’s probably the most disgusting. Earwax or puke flavoured or something. We engorge it to a proper size—we might need to sacrifice a few other beans to get it done properly, but trust me, it’s worth it. There’s a single Joker in this deck. If you’re the one to turn that card, you have to eat the Master Bean.”

“Which is great fun for everyone except the person who has to eat it,” Charlie says. She speaks from experience. They’ve all been unlucky at least once—Dean’s was Brussels Sprouts, so at least it could’ve been worse.

“You might get lucky,” Jo continues, “because we’re never entirely sure that the Master Bean is really that gross. But I think we’ve become pretty good at this.”

“So the fun in this game...” Cas says, then trails off.

“You get to eat a ton of candy, and then laugh at the poor sod who has to eat the grossest one. Except if that’s you, then you’re not gonna want to be friends with us ever again.” Benny’s warmed up to Cas a little in the past years. They won’t ever be best friends, but they at least tolerate each other now.

“I understand,” Cas says, even though it’s obvious that he doesn’t.

Dean clearly isn’t thinking when he claps a hand on his friend’s leg and says, “You will, buddy,” but the moment he realises what he’s doing he can actually feel his face flush. He pulls his hand back a little too fast. There’s no way no one’s noticed.

At least Cas himself hasn’t, or at least he’s very good at pretending otherwise. Whether that’s a good or a bad thing, Dean has yet to decide.

Except that Cas places a hand on Dean’s leg in the exact same place and then keeps it there. He doesn’t even look at Dean, listening intently to Jo listing the standard rules that go with the numbers, and Dean doesn’t fucking know what to do with the hand burning a hole in his jeans, or the way it sets his ears on fire.

“I understand now, I think,” he hears Cas say from what seems like quite a distance away.

“Excellent! Then we pick the grossest looking Bean and we play!”

The Big Bean ends up being a particularly nasty colour, and in the end, Dean is the one to find out that it tastes about as pleasant as it looks, but Cas’s hand is still on his knee and the Slytherin makes some dumb joke about handling Big Beans and Dean barely even tastes the thing because what the hell, Cas. He can see Charlie wiggling her eyebrows and Viktor simply laughing at him, and at least he knows one thing for sure—it’s going to be one hell of a final school year.

 

**08\. First year.**

“Dean! Cas!”

A blonde is waving at them from the platform once they enter through the enchanted wall, and Dean can’t help but break out into a grin when he sees her again. It’s been a long time—Jo went to visit the States over the summer, and she took her time traveling around there with her boyfriend Ash. Dean won’t ever tell her, but he’s missed her.

Not that he didn’t have a great summer with his family.

“And hello, Claire,” Jo says with a grin.

“Hey, aunt Jo.”

It’s unusual for the girl not to immediately start telling Jo about whatever is most occupying her mind at that moment, but she’s never been this nervous about anything before, even if she pulls a face when Dean tells Jo as much. “Dad! I’m fine.”

“Right, right,” Dean says, winking at Jo over his daughter’s head. “Of course you are.”

“It’s alright, C, we were all a little nervous on the first day,” Jo tells Claire in a conspirational whisper. “Especially your Dad.”

“Really?”

Jo never met Dean on that particular first of September all those years ago, but Claire doesn’t know that. Dean just rolls his eyes and allows his friend to make up some ridiculous story about him. If it makes his girl feel better, then he’ll deal with whatever crap Jo comes up with.

“You know,” Cas says in Dean’s ear, “I think you are more nervous than she is.”

“Shut up,” Dean says. “What if she doesn’t like it? What if she gets homesick, or if she gets bullied or something?”

“She’s going to be fine.”

Dean thinks back to all the times he had to deal with the likes of Alastair and his friends and lets out a deep sigh. Just because that happened to him, doesn’t mean it has to happen to his kid. She’s going to hop on that train and teach every other first year that dumb Bertie Bott’s game Jo has taught her, and make a ton of friends, and impress all her teachers with how ridiculously smart she already is, and she’s going to come home for Christmas full of fun stories. “Em. Hey. Do you need any help with your trunk?”

“You’re not going on the train with me, Dad, everyone’s going to laugh at me. And Jack already said he’d help me out.” She takes a deep breath and smiles up at him. “I’ll be fine.”

She shouldn’t be comforting him, it should be the other way round, dammit. But Cas takes his hand and nods solemnly at their daughter. “Don’t worry, so will your Dad. I’ll take care of him.”

“I know, Dad,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be gross. I’m going to see if I can find Jack.”

She doesn’t need to, though, because as though he’s heard her say it, that’s the exact moment Sam and Eileen turn up, Jack trying to look cool the way only a twelve-year-old can, but obviously excited that his cousin is coming to Hogwarts this year, too. Little Thom is clutching Sam’s hand. He’s a few years younger than his brother, and the crowded platform clearly makes him a little nervous still. “Hey, Jo, didn’t realise you were back already.”

“I have to see off my favourite niece on her first day to school,” Jo says. She’s not really Claire’s aunt, but she might as well be, the way she has taken to the girl, and Dean’s always considered Jo a little sister anyway despite their age difference only being a few months.

Speaking of… “Anyone seen Charlie and Dorothy?”

“I think they’re still on their honeymoon,” Jo says. “They liked it so much in Italy that they decided to stay a little longer.”

That shouldn’t really surprise Dean, considering Charlie’s willingness to see new things and Dorothy’s wanderlust (which just so happens to be part of her job, too). As long as they’ll come back eventually. Charlie’s still his best friend after all these years, and Dean is about equally fond of Apparating as he is of flying—which is to say, not at al. That means Cas often limits himself to traveling by Muggle means with Dean rather than by the magical means he prefers.

Cas even drives, now. He has a shitty taste in cars, and Dean refuses to admit that Sam and Cas are both right when they argue the shitty cars are a lot more convenient in Europe than the classic beauties Dean likes to go and find when they go to the States every so often, but it’s such a far cry from the kid Dean met on his very first train ride that the details don’t matter.

“Are you ready to go, Claire?” Jack asks brightly.

“Yeah,” Claire says. “No. Wait. One minute.” And then she turns and without a word hugs Dean, then Cas. “I’ll write,” she says. “Promise.”

“You better,” says Dean.

“We’ll write, too,” says Cas. “Have fun at school.”

“But not too much fun. Kidding! Kidding. You’re going to have a great time, kid. We love you.”

“You, too,” says Claire. She seems to realise then that Jack is still waiting, though he’s talking to Sam, and nods. “I’m going now.”

Dean is never going to admit that he can feel his eyes burn a little as he watches her go with Jack, the two of them dragging her trunk into the train and disappearing to find a compartment, but Cas knows anyway, because he’s pressing closer to Dean now. “Look, there they are.”

The conductor’s whistle sounds, which leads to the same big rush it always does and which makes Dean temporarily lose sight of his daughter because of all the other kids running to hop on the train, but it doesn’t take much effort to find her again. She’s right next to the window, laughing at something, nervous but excited until the second whistle sounds and the train starts moving and she and Jack are waving out the window at their family, and Dean keeps waving until the train is finally out of sight.

“She’ll be fine,” Cas tells him again.

“Yeah, I know.”

“And now that Claire’s at school until Christmas break, we get the house to ourselves again.”

He’s trying to distract Dean, not turn him on, and so it leaves Dean laughing a little. “Really, Cas?”

His husband shrugs. “Just looking at the bright side of life.”

“I should never have made you watch that movie.”

“There’s no pleasing some people.”

“I can suggest plenty of better ways to please me.”

“Dean!” Sam snaps. “Control yourself.”

“Alright, alright, I was just kidding.”

They join the line of parents waiting to be allowed off the platform again, in small groups only as to not crowd the Muggle station too suddenly and freak out the poor unsuspecting people. It’s a weird situation to be in. “Kinda wish it was still our turn to hop on that train again,” he jokes to Cas.

“It is strange,” Cas agrees, “but I would not go back in time if I could.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I have a weakness that overrules anything else I could wish for,” Cas says dramatically. “I like you.”

Of course, that’s exactly when it’s their turn to pass the gate back into the Muggle world, which might actually be a good thing, because even after all these years, the ways Cas tells Dean these things have him blushing like a schoolkid. “Shut up,” is what comes out of his mouth right before they pass through the gate. “I love you, too.”

 


End file.
